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162 — I LOVE YOU, DO YOU LOVE ME?
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2025-10-12 23:00:29
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Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 162 — I LOVE YOU, DO YOU LOVE ME?
ASTRIDPRESENT***I got off the call with Hayley thirty minutes ago and kept my eyes glued to the window, silently urging Silvan to get here quickly.When I finally heard his voice from downstairs, when I finally saw him, a thousand and one emotions slammed into me all once — relief, love, remorse…I wanted to crawl into his skin and remain there for the next few hundred years, but one look at his wet, shivering frame and I started panicking.Aunt Elena takes one long look at my face, her eyes darkening with an unreadable expression when she notices that Silvan’s left palm is firmly clasped in mine.“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?”I nod, my veins buzzing with impatience.“I can handle this. Let me handle this.”Another tense heartbeat later, she nods. Her gaze morphs from warm to freezing cold as she refocuses her attention on Silvan;“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Rourke. But don’t think you can escape this conversation. By sunrise, we will pick up where we left off.”I turn t
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 161 — PLEASE, FORGIVE HIM.
ASTRIDThirty minutes prior…***It’s almost midnight. I should be sleeping, cozying up to the lulling sound of the rain. Instead, I’m pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows like a war general, peering every two seconds at the gloomy, rain soaked streets.After Zeya’s eye opening lecture, I sent my husband a tiny text, hoping to express how much he really means to me. I realized this afternoon that unlike silvan, I do not have a way with words. I love him with every fiber of my being, but putting those feelings into words is one of the hardest things to do. He definitely read my text, but I still haven’t gotten a response. I sink my fingers into my hair, resisting the urge to pull each strand from my scalp.Silvan is a very… verbally romantic person. I cannot shake the feeling that he took one look at my ridiculous text and concluded that I wasn’t worth the effort. Now I’m left wondering if I should send another one.The shrill sound of my phone ringing shatters the silent
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 160 — SHE LOVES ME…
SILVANIt’s settled.Today is by far the shittiest day that I have ever had. It took a lot of effort to get Edward to climb back in his car and leave. And twice that effort was required to peel Hayley away from Toby’s grave.But the damage is already done. Edward’s horrible words… fuck! Once again, I was subjected to the horror of watching my best friend break to pieces… all because of him.I am so exhausted, I can feel my bones rattle with wariness. This is not just a physical, surface-level exhaustion. It goes deeper. My spirit, soul and body are crying for rest.Which is why I called Michael and had him come over to the cemetery and drive us home. If I’d gone behind that wheel, I would’ve probably driven us into an oncoming truck. Hayley is seated beside me with her eyes closed, but I lean forward and access her tired face, just to make sure she’s fine.Convinced that she’s okay, I pull out my phone and stare at the notification bar, a painful twinge blooming in my chest when I f
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 159 — SIS, YOU BETTER CALL THAT MAN.
ASTRID“Life sucks, huh?” I speak into the silence, trying and failing horribly to quell the burning pain in my chest. “I should be honeymooning right now, enjoying Jamaica with my husband. Instead, I’m stuck here, watching you do…” I flick a glance at my best friend who is currently covered head to toe in pastel watercolour, “…whatever you’re doing.”Zeya rolls her eyes. “Girl, all I want is to paint in peace.” She says absent-mindedly, slapping more paint on the disaster that is her canvas, “I let you join me because I thought you wanted to paint too.” Her lips curl in mock disdain as she glances at my blank canvas.“All you’ve done for the past three hours is bitch and moan about your man.”“Well, what else am I supposed to bitch and moan about?” I say on a huff, flopping on the Italian chair and casting a gloomy look at the vaulted ceilings. “It’s been, what, five hours since he left with Hayley? I don’t know, Zeya. I think something is wrong.”When three seconds tick by and all
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 158 — EDWARD RIVERA
SILVANThe sky is a gloomy grey, just the perfect weather to complement my foul mood. I finally managed to get Hayley to stop crying a while ago, but that didn’t last because right now, she’s on her knees, her fingers buried in the dirt and her forehead pressed against the wet tombstone, crying her eyes out all over again.Something hard and painful lodged itself in my throat when I received her call early this morning, and it has refused to go away.It wasn’t this bad last year, her breakdown. She cried a few tears and was moody for a few hours, but she got over it quickly. But it’s different this year. I can swear Hayley got spooked by something. She’s broken. Completely shattered.A suspicious pressure builds behind my eyes and I lower my head, blinking rapidly to keep it at bay. I loved Toby like he was mine. Hell, at some point, people thought he was my son. I would’ve given anything to bring him back, anything at all.That horrible night, two years ago, taught me that I wasn’t
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 157 — WHAT HAPPENED TO HAYLEY?
ASTRIDI ignore Silvan the entire flight, hoping he’ll cave and tell me something, anything, about the “important business” that required an urgent flight to New York.However, aside from shooting guilty glances my way every two minutes, he keeps his mouth stubbornly shut. Just thinking about the entire situation has my fierce anger bubbles to the surface. I should’ve told him to go ahead and leave me behind in Jamaica. I don’t even want to be around him right now.I press my forehead to the cool window, suddenly overcome with the bruising weight of exhaustion. Did I make a mistake by agreeing to marry him? Our relationship is a confusing tango — one step forward, ten steps backwards. Every single fucking time I feel we’re making progress, an issue springs up from nowhere and suddenly, we’re back to square one. I should be lounging in bed right now, cuddled up in my husband’s arms. Instead, I’m flying five thousand feet above the ground, hurt and crushed that said husband does not
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